Safe
by justmindy
Summary: With Moriarty's possible return, Sherlock wants to make sure Molly is as safe as possible.


**For my darling and biggest fan, channyfaith. Chandler, happy birthday. Please, never change.**

**Also, thank you to MizJoely for beta'ing!**

Sherlock Holmes lay on his back on the cold mat, hand over chest, panting for breath.

The furniture had been moved to the edges of the sitting room, leaving the hardwood floor of 221B open and clear for the ensuing carnage. At least the thin, padded mattresses cushioned his body.

"That's good, Molly," he said, rubbing his hand over his red face. "V-very good." He stood up, making an effort to look unaffected. "You're better at this than I expected."

"I told you, I took a class! You can't be a single woman in London without knowing a few moves."

"Yes, well, how was I supposed to know your self-defense instructor wasn't an idiot? Most people are."

The petite pathologist looked wary, worrying her capable hands as she bounced from foot to trainer-clad foot. "I didn't hurt you, did I? You told me to use all my strength."

"Uh, no. No. Just surprised me." He coughed, then took up his offensive stance. "Again."

Her ponytail was swinging in refusal before the words came out, "No, Sherlock, I don't want to hurt you. I don't need lessons; I know how to defend myself."

Not enough. It would never be enough. Moriarty's possible return had his mind palace in chaos. If it was truly Moriarty, he would know what he'd overlooked two years ago. He would know about Molly. So, while Sherlock should have been working on this newest threat to London Town, he was too distracted by the safety of his pathologist, the only one who mattered. She would never be safe enough, so he had to make sure, to his satisfaction, that she could defend herself if the need arose and he wasn't there.

He was only doing it so he could get back to the task of solving the case. Nothing more.

He almost believed it.

"Don't be tedious, Molly. Get into position." He paused before adding the part he knew would goad her. "You only got the drop on me because I wasn't expecting it. You won't be able to take me down this time. There's a good girl, come along now."

Sure enough, her eyes narrowed as determination hardened her features. She turned her back, positioning herself into his posed arms, which he then tightened to restrain her. This time, he made sure his feet were planted and his grip was firmer.

She was still able to flip him onto his back. This time, like an expert fencer touching their épée to the protected heart of their defeated opponent, Molly lightly settled her foot over his groin, indicating what her next figurative, and literal, step would be. She raised one shapely brow.

Sherlock was suddenly struck with the reality of his feelings for this woman, but he mentally shook the sentiment off. _Not. Now._

"Okay, okay." He put on his best innocent smile, extending his hand to her. "Help me up."

He pulled Molly to the mat as soon as her hand gripped his, cushioning her fall with his arm beneath her back, leaning over her as his body intuitively molded to her side. "Never let your guard down," he admonished.

She started laughing.

"What? I'm serious. You never know what tricks these people will play," he added, not at all petulant. He hated being laughed at.

"It's just that - Sherlock, the look on your face. You looked like Mother Superior from my old Catholic public school. I couldn't help it," she giggled again.

"Stop laughing, I can't - no, stop. Please, you have to understand. You have to be safe. I can't let him hurt you!"

With his outburst, Molly finally stopped, resting her hand on his chest. Over his heart, now beating out an Allegretto. "Why? This is no different from before. Why do you care now?"

He only paused briefly, internally debating before deciding to answer truthfully. "Your assumption is wrong. I cared before, but now -" Sherlock rolled onto his back, nervously running his hands through his curls. "- now I don't know what's going on. I don't even know if it's Moriarty." She followed his movements, now resting against his side, hand once again placed over his heart. " The more I worry about you, living alone and walking to and from work alone every day the same way, predictably, the harder it is to solve the problem, and the further I get from the problem, the more I worry about you. I need you to be safe. I -" a finger to his lips stopped his panicked ramblings.

"Ssh. Hush now, it's okay. I'm here. I'm safe." After a comforting moment, the wicked gleam returned to her eyes. "And you just let your guard down," she said, right before lightly scratching his side with swift fingers. The tickling caught him unawares and had Sherlock laughing uncontrollably. Not one to go down without a fight, he reciprocated. Soon, they were rolling around the mat while they each tried to get the upper hand. Then Sherlock found himself hovering over her again, panting, Molly's wrists bound by one of his hands above her head.

Little beads of sweat dottedher hairline, and he could feel them on his forehead as well. Her laboured breathing pushed her chest into his, but Sherlock was focused on herslightly parted lips.

He released her wrists, slowly bringing his hand down to rub across her bottom lip with his thumb. Her intake of breath telegraphed her intentions and he lowered his head to meet her.

It started sweet, just an innocent brushing of lips. Something he'd certainly thought of many times but never allowed himself to want or hope for. Molly closed her eyes on a sigh, running her hand up Sherlock's jawline and into his curls, slightly tugging.

With an unbidden groan, he grabbed her thigh, her leg closing around his hip as he rocked into the vee of her legs, her mouth opening under his ministrations. "Just as I imagined," he said between kisses, "You taste exactly as I thought you would."

Molly paused, her eyes cycling through many questions but settling on the easiest. "How's that now?"

His hand found its way under her shirt, under the utilitarian bra she'd worn in anticipation of physical activity, and brushed against her straining nipple.

"Sherlock," she breathed as he nibbled down her chin and to her graceful neck. He'd longed to taste it, often to distraction as they worked side by side in the lab at Bart's. He was rewarded with Molly's hitched breath when he found a particular dip where her neck met her shoulders.

He licked at the salty dampness there. "Like home, and sunshine, and the chocolate covered salted caramels you keep hidden in the bottom drawer of your desk."

His abdominals fluttered with the touch of Molly's fingers along the waist of his track suit pants, her thumbs wandering blow the elastic. "Naughty boy, I lock that drawer."

He scrambled for an excuse. "It was for a case."

"Sherlock, you don't have to lie." she pulled him close once again. "I know about your sweet tooth." Molly whispered the great secret against his lips before they started kissing again.

His shirt came off first, then hers and her bra. Her nipple hardened further under his tongue, the unique bumps of her areola rubbing against his nose as he breathed in the scent of her. Molly's hands flew back to his hair and he switched to her other side, no longer content to neglect any part of her. Sherlock had his taste and now he'd never stop wanting.

"I need to touch you," was the only warning he got before a hand was pushing into his pants, along his pelvic bone, and gently up his shaft to spread the precum at the tip. He shuddered before lifting himself to hastily remove the remainder of his clothing, watching Molly do the same.

He rejoined her, placing a kiss on her right knee, then moved to taste the inside of her left thigh. He nuzzled her hip, bringing his hand up to cup her, brushing against the wetness. Looking toward her eyes across the breadth of her abdomen, he expected rejection, even now. With a reassuring smile, Molly pulled him toward her mouth, this time opening immediately. Their tongues met, dancing together.

Sherlock's fingers continued their exploration, stroking into her, causing Molly's breath to hitch. When his fingers entered her, she clutched at his bicep, disconnecting from his mouth to lay her forehead against his, panting.

He nuzzled the spot on her neck again, crooking his fingers and moving his thumb to circle her clit. He reveled in the noises she made; little moans and gasps of air that grew higher and louder. Soon, Molly's fingernails were digging into his arm, and she stiffened and shattered in his arms; his goddess in rapture.

Sherlock kissed her hair as Molly came down, closing his eyes as he inhaled the sweet smell of her shampoo. When she grabbed him, this time with a little pressure, all he could manage was closing his eyes and breathing heavily into her scalp.

"Mm - Molly, I need you. I'm clean, I promise, just - oh, god, I'd never hurt you, tell me I can have you."

"Y-yes, I'm protected. The pill. Have been for ages. Please, I need you, too."

Sherlock refocused on her face, his hand going to her hair to cradle her head in a kiss that meant more than any of their previous kisses as he repositioned himself between her legs.

He kept his eyes locked on her as he slowly entered, feeling her wet heat close around him. By the time he was fully seated, Sherlock's heart was no longer his. As he moved in her, he lost his soul as well.

His face was in her neck, arms around her back as she peaked again and he was only briefly distressed that he didn't see her face this time before he felt the familiar pressure in his lower back signalling his orgasm. He sped up, Molly clenching around him. Sherlock finally spilled into her, his mouth claiming hers in a sloppy kiss.

He pulled out of her slowly, but still held her close. Their breathing, in sync now, calmed down as Molly repositioned their bodies so Sherlock's head could rest on her breast without his weight bearing too heavily on her.

"If you'd wanted to get me into bed, Sherlock," she began, "you could've just asked."

"This wasn't a ploy." He sat up, indignant now. "I want - need - you to be safe." He looked into her sparklingbrown eyes and knew the solution. "Stay with me, and not just until I solve this -"

"You don't know what you're saying -"

"-forever," he finished. "I love you."

"I love you, too." His lover bit her lip before making the decision. "Alright, I'll stay."

Satisfied, they stayed like that a while, curled around each other in the afterglow of their lovemaking, content to cuddle without words for the time being.

Eventually, as night fell, it got colder and they retreated to the warmth of his bedroom, where they made love again. This time, he made sure to watch her as she came in his arms, never wanting to miss it again.

As Molly slept peacefully beside him, Sherlock retreated to his mind palace and was finally able to think clearly enough to solve the puzzle. He left a note just in case he wasn't back in time to greet her in the morning, and texted Mycroft to make sure there was a detail staying at Baker Street to protect the treasure within.

For the first time since John's wedding, Sherlock Holmes felt positive and enthusiastic for the future. He smiled as he hailed an oncoming cabbie.


End file.
